It Was Not Death She Feared. It

Some People Could Look At A Mud Puddle And See An Ocean With Ships.

I Wish I Could Buy You For What You Are Really Worth And Sell You For What You Think You're Worth. I Sure Would Make Money On The Deal.

If Writers Were Too Wise, Perhaps No Books Would Get Written At All. It Might Be Better To Ask Yourself 'why?”'afterwards Than Before There Is No Agony Like Bearing An Untold Story Inside You.

It Would Be Against All Nature For All The Negroes To Be Either At The Bottom, Top, Or In Between. We Will Go Where The Internal Drive Carries Us Like Everybody Else. It Is Up To The Individual.

Love, I Find, Is Like Singing.